Burn For Me

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Eve was in bed when she heard the rap on her balcony door. She sat up, heart racing, sure that she must be dreaming. Then the rap came again.

She was on the fourteenth floor. How the hell could someone be knocking at her balcony door?

Sucking in a deep gulp of air, Eve grabbed for her gun. Yeah, she had one. Courtesy of her lawyer. She was also more than ready to use the weapon if she needed to do so.

A late-night visitor, one who came by way of the balcony …

“Eve.” Just her name, but she knew that voice.

Eve put the gun back on the nightstand and hurried across the room. Before she could reach for the lock, the balcony door slid open.

Cain stood there, his hair wet from the light rain that had begun to fall.

Eve shook her head. How had the guy gotten out there?

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

Wait. Did he smile? He did.

“So I knocked first.”

Fourteenth freaking floor. “How did you get out here?”

Cain glanced up with raised brows.

Oh no, the guy had better not be telling her that he’d just dropped from the floor above her. But that wicked smile on his lips said …

Eve grabbed his arm and yanked him fully inside her room. “You’re crazy!”

His eyes flickered. “Yes.”

Not exactly the response she’d expected. Eve backed away from him.

“I should probably be staying the hell away from you,” he said, his voice low and growling, “but I can’t.” His gaze raked her. “Sometimes, I feel like I need you more than I need fucking air.”

The words were dark. No, he was dark. A big, dangerous shadow who stalked her across the room.

Eve was too conscious of the rumpled bed that waited behind her—and of her own need. Whenever Cain was around, she needed.

“I can’t leave you again.” The words held a ragged edge. “I think you might be the only thing keeping me sane.”

That scared the hell out of her. But when he advanced on her, Eve didn’t retreat. Not that time. She put her hand on his chest. “What happens to you?”

His head tilted to the side. His body was warm. So big.

Fire.

“When you burn, Cain, what happens?” She’d wanted to ask before, but now nothing held her back. She wanted to know everything about him. Good. Bad.

Just as he knew everything about her.

His gaze slid over her and she felt it like a touch of his hands. “There are some things that you’re better off not knowing.”

Not this. “Where do you go?” The twist in her gut already told her.

“Hell.”

The shake of her head was an instinctive denial. Not him. No.

“The flames from hell are the only ones strong enough to bring me back. So I die, the beast within me flies to hell, then that fire gives me the strength to come back.”

“What is—” It like?

“More pain that you can ever imagine. Screams that don’t stop. Agony that rips me apart.”

He did this every time he burned? His heart pounded in a strong, steady beat beneath her fingertips. “Is that why, when you come back, you don’t seem to know me?” She hated when he looked at her with only fury and fire in his eyes.

Just as she hated that Trace’s eyes now showed only the beast.

As Cain stared at her, there was a tenderness in his gaze. A sadness. “Sometimes, I don’t know my own damn self. I only know hate. Fury. The fire.”

He was … darker each time. She’d felt that darkness growing.

“I have to fight to find myself again.” He exhaled slowly. “But the last time, the last two times, I knew you when I came back. Not your name, just … you.”

Eve wasn’t sure what that meant.

“You kept me in control.”

Uh-oh. That had been control? If that had been a controlled Cain, Eve didn’t want to see him without his restraint.

“Because you’re mine.”

Her heart lurched at that. “Cain …”

He stood before her. The back of her knees hit the bed.

“I climbed out of hell for you. To come back to you. When I rose, I wanted to kill everyone around me—anyone who stood between us.” His words were so fierce. “I’m not … safe, Eve. I’ve known that my whole life. Each time I die, I always know I could be a rising away from insanity. From not ever remembering who I am and letting the beast loose to kill and burn.”

“You haven’t hurt me.” He hadn’t. Not even when he’d been in that cage at Genesis. Subject Thirteen. The man with the wild eyes and the leashed power.

“I can’t.” The words seemed dragged from him. “I need you too much. If anything happened to you …”

Eve tilted her head back. “Nothing is going to happen to me.” They were safe now. The big, bad beast that was Genesis was gone.

“If you die, you can’t rise. You can’t come back to me.”

She caught his hand and pressed it over her heart. “I won’t leave you.” Didn’t he understand? She’d been trying to protect him for so long. The story, the press, the days with the cops—all of it had been to protect him.

But he’d come back. Even though he could have just vanished, he’d found her. He’d put himself at risk for her.

“You deserve better.” His words were gritted out.

And Cain deserved more than hell and madness.

“I want you.” As she stared into his eyes, she saw the wildness flare. Saw the struggle for him to hold on to his control.

Screw control. For them both. Maybe they should rely a little less on control and more on need. Lust.

Trust.

Love?

She pushed him back.

Cain’s eyes widened and he began to shake his head. “Eve …”

Did he think she was telling him no? She’d never tell him no. Not Cain. Not her dark lover.

Not the man who’d walked through hell for her. Literally.

She dropped to her knees before him. She didn’t fear his beast. Didn’t fear the man.

He’d given her pleasure before, held himself back to make sure the wild rush was hers. Now, it was her turn.

Her hands reached for the snap of his jeans. The zipper eased down between her fingers.

No underwear. But then, Cain wasn’t exactly the type for silk boxers.

His cock pushed toward her, fully erect, the head already gleaming with a drop of moisture. The width of his cock was easily bigger than her wrist. Wide, long.

She licked her lips—then she licked him.

His breath hissed out even as his hands lowered to wrap around her shoulders. “You don’t have to—”

Another slow lick. Then she eased back, just enough to look up into his eyes. “I want to.” Still meeting his eyes, she kissed his flesh again. Opened her lips. Her tongue tasted the moisture on the tip of his arousal.

Tangy. Masculine.

She’d be having more, please.

Her mouth widened even as her left hand circled the base of his erection. She took his cock between her lips, sucked lightly, and pumped with her hand.

His fingers tightened on her shoulders. His hips pushed toward her. So eager.

She liked him this way. Cain didn’t need to worry about control. Right then, she had it.

It took Eve a moment to realize that her own hips were rocking up with each stroke of her tongue over his flesh.

Tasting him turned her on so much.

She took him deeper into her mouth. Learned where he liked for her to lick. To suck.

“Eve …” There was a warning note in his voice.

She ignored the warning. Story of her life.

She ignored the growl and the hard hands on her shoulders and she gave him pleasure—even as she pleasured herself. She took more, deeper, loving the feel of him within her mouth.

“No more!” Cain’s hands pushed her back. “I … can’t … wait …”

She didn’t want him to wait. Eve reached for him again.

In a flash, Cain had her on the bed. Her robe, a loaner from the hotel, was tossed across the room. He had her flat on her back with her legs spread, his hands holding hers to the bed.

His cock pushed against her sex. “You’re wet.”

More like soaking, but she wasn’t going to argue. Eve arched her hips. “Now.” She could be demanding, too.

She’d sure missed him over the last two weeks.

Cain thrust into her. He groaned. She moaned. And it was wonderful. Perfect. He filled her core, stretched her, sent pulses of pleasure rushing through her.

Then he started to move. Thrusting and withdrawing. Her legs locked around his hips and she held on for that wild ride.

Control was long gone, for both of them. There was no restraint. Only need. A desperate passion driving them toward a release that couldn’t wait.

Her nails dug into his skin. His mouth pressed against her throat.

“Mine.” Cain’s growl, but it could have been hers. She’d thought of him as hers for so long.

Eve stopped thinking in the next instant. Pleasure hit her. Not a ripple. Not a wave. A freaking avalanche of pleasure that had the air freezing in her lungs as her whole body seemed to explode.

Cain was with her. His hold tightened on her. He drove deeper into her and shuddered with his release.

A person could die from that much pleasure. So … good.

Eve held him, riding out the climax, knowing only the strong feel of his body against hers and the frantic pounding of their heartbeats.

When Cain finally rose above her, Eve’s hands tightened instinctively around him. She didn’t want him going anywhere. Couldn’t they just pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist? For a little while? Was that too much to ask?

She blinked open her eyes and found him staring at her. Watching her with a look she’d never seen before. “Cain? What is it?”

His fingers trailed over her arm, even as he kept his cock within her. “I should have left you.”

Well, damn. Her brows snapped together. “Dude, pillow talk does not start this way.”

It was his turn to blink. When she began to squirm underneath him—seriously, his timing was shit—he tightened his hold on her and held her still. “That’s not what I … dammit, I just don’t want you hurt because of me!”

She stared at him. “You haven’t hurt me.” Not even when he came back from the fire.

“Genesis kept files on me. The government has copies of all those experiments. Do you think they’re just gonna let me walk away?”

“If they’re smart, yes, they will.” She’d gotten the impression from the FBI agents who’d visited her that—well, they were afraid of Subject Thirteen.

They hadn’t exactly looked eager to walk into Cain’s fire. They could be smarter than Wyatt.

Cain’s gaze was so deep. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“I won’t be.” The promise seemed easy enough to give. Especially when she was wrapped in his arms. “Look, I might not be able to die and come back like you, but I’m strong, Cain.” He should have seen that.

“I know.” His lips brushed over hers. “That’s why I want you so much.”

Want. Need. Lust. There was plenty of that between them. Did she dare mention that for her, there was more?

Love.

Eve wasn’t sure when the phoenix had burned his way into her heart. He had, though. She thought about him all the time. Wanted to protect him. Wanted to make love with him, of course, but she also just wanted …

“I want to go to the beach.” The words were silly, but they came out anyway.

Cain frowned down at her.

“I want to see you in the sunlight,” she told him and smiled at the image in her mind. “I want to see you in the sand. Without fire. Without danger. Without anything but us.” He’d smile then, she was sure of it. She’d get to hear him laugh.

They could just be a man and a woman.

She wanted to see what Cain looked like when he was happy. “Can’t we just be normal?” she whispered to him.

His gaze held hers. There was a flash in his eyes. Longing. She knew that look.

Pain.

No, wait. She hadn’t meant that she wanted him to be normal. She loved him as he was. Fire and all. She’d just wanted—

The phone rang. They both tensed and glanced at the bedside table.

“Probably more reporters,” Cain said, voice rumbling.

Eve shook her head. No, there were only a few people who knew she’d be there. She reached for the phone, even as she stayed in Cain’s arms.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Bradley?”

Detective Roberts. She recognized his voice instantly. “What’s happened?” If he was calling her, there had to be a problem.

“There was a werewolf attack in the club district a few minutes ago.”

Hell. Her fingers clamped around the phone as she stared back at Cain. He was so close he had to have heard the cop’s words. “You’re sure it was Trace?” There were other werewolves out there, even ones who attacked. They could get pissed off, just like anyone else. Actually, they got pissed more than most folks.

Werewolves weren’t exactly known for their peaceful natures.

“Witness described a white male, said he was about six foot five …”

When she’d seen Trace in that lab, he had been that big. Before, he’d been skirting six feet.

“Fangs, claws bursting from his fingers—”

Still, that could be—

“And he was shouting your name.”

Okay, that narrowed it down. “I’m coming.”

“No, you aren’t. I’m giving you this call as a warning. The guy is here in the city, and he’s hunting you. I told you that you needed protection.”

Eve’s eyes were on Cain. He reached for the phone. “She has protection.”

“Who is this?” Roberts demanded.

“Her protection.”

“Leave that job to the cops, buddy.”

“If I do that, you’ll all just die.” Brutal words. True words. “I’m coming for the wolf.”

Eve straightened her shoulders. No, they were coming.

Cain hung up the phone.

Her heart was still beating too fast.

“Eve …”

“I want to try and save him.” She didn’t know how yet. She just had to try. “Cain, I was alone my whole life, okay? After my parents died …” Because of Genesis and Wyatt’s twisted father “… I never felt like I had any family. Until Trace.”

Cain’s jaw tightened. He eased from her body. Dressed in silence.

So did she. “He was the closest thing to a brother I ever had. Trace always had my back. He watched out for me, and I watched out for him.”

Cain was staring at her. Just … waiting.

“I can’t give up on him.” She wouldn’t. “We can help him.” Someway. If some toxic mix of drugs had made him like this, there had to be a drug combination that could pull him back.

“We’ll help him,” Cain agreed.

Yes.

“We’ll contain him and make sure that he doesn’t hurt any humans.”

Right. Containment, then cure. They could do this.

“But if he turns on you, Eve, if he tries to kill you …”

She shook her head. “It’s not coming to that.” Even she knew the words were a lie. He’d already tried to kill her twice.

But she still saw him as the seventeen-year-old boy she’d found on the side of the road. Alone. Just as lost as she was.

They’d needed each other.

They’d become a family.

You didn’t turn your back on family.

Because of that, because she had to have hope for Trace, Eve asked, “Do the tears of a phoenix … can they really heal?”

Cain glanced up at her. His gaze was hooded.

“Wyatt … said that he wasn’t able to make you cry.” No matter what torture the sick freak had used. “But he thought your tears could heal …”

Maybe they could heal Trace. Maybe they wouldn’t need drugs to bring the werewolf back to them.

Cain shook his head, and the hope of a swift healing died within Eve. “Those stories have always been out there, the whispers that my kind can heal.” His lips twisted. “But the thing is … those tales are freaking bull. We can’t cry.”

Eve stared at him.

“Wyatt tried, all right. Every trick he could think of. No matter how much pain he gave me, it didn’t work. The bastard even came up with some scientific shit about my tear ducts being abnormal, non-functioning. Hell yeah, they’re non-functioning … my eyes burn with my power. My body doesn’t work like a human’s ’cause I’m not. Never will be.”

She nodded. “I figured he was wrong. I just …” Hoped. “We’ll find another way.” There had to be another way.

“I can’t shed tears. There’s no healing power in me. There’s just the beast I carry, Eve. The one who lives for fire and destruction.” Cain stalked toward her, his steps slow and heavy. “There are some other things you need to understand.”

She waited, body full of nervous energy.

“You are my priority. If Trace comes at you with his claws and fangs, I’ll take the werewolf out.”

She’d have to make sure that didn’t happen. Just as she’d have to make sure that she did find a way to cure Trace. A way that didn’t involve a phoenix’s magic.

Eve turned away, grabbing for her bag, but Cain’s fingers closed around her arm. “You aren’t alone.” The words were gruff. “No matter what happens, you won’t be alone.” His lips brushed over hers.

When he stepped back to release her, Eve grabbed his hand. She didn’t know what would happen, but she needed to tell him how she felt. “Cain, I love you.”

He just stared back at her.

She’d been hoping for a better reaction.

Her chin lifted. “And you aren’t alone, either, understand?”

She wasn’t sure he did. The guy looked pretty shell-shocked. Eve smiled at him. Her phoenix. He’d understand, soon enough. She’d make him. “One day, I’m getting you on that beach …”

Not today. Today, they had a werewolf to catch.

Eve turned away and headed for the door.

“Why?” His voice was raspy.

“Because you’ll love the sand between your toes.” She got the feeling Cain hadn’t enjoyed many free, fun moments in his life. That was going to change. She’d change it for him.

“No … why would you say you loved me?”

She glanced back at him.

“You don’t.” His words seemed so certain. “You can’t.”

It was her turn to ask. “Why not?”

“Because I’m a monster, Eve. I destroy everything around me.”

She kept her face expressionless. He said he was a monster, but he sounded like a lost little boy. He should have known love before this moment.

He’d always know it now.

“You haven’t destroyed me,” she told him softly, swallowing the lump in her throat. “And you won’t.” Then, because she thought he needed to hear the words again and because the guy had better start getting used to the fact, she repeated, “I love you.”

The pain that flashed on his face hurt her heart. It hurt even more when he whispered, “Don’t.”

Didn’t he realize that he deserved to be loved? Everyone did. Once Trace was safe, she’d prove that truth to Cain.

She headed into the hallway. Before she could leave the room, Cain grabbed her hand. “I know another way. A way unwanted guests won’t see.”

Frowning, Eve hesitated.

“I got in without being seen,” Cain said, “and I’ll get out that way, too. We don’t want the Feds following us.”

Or taking a shot at Trace.

“Trust me?” he asked, as he shut the door.

Her breath whispered out, but Eve nodded.

Cain led her back through the balcony door. The wind blew against her, carrying a faint chill. Eve looked down at the steep drop.

I can’t rise.

“No one’s on the floor below you. I made sure of it.” His lips twisted. “I booked the room under an assumed name.”

The room above her and the room below … the guy had been prepared.

He wrapped his arms around her. “Just hold on to me.”

She did.

He lifted her up. Stood on the edge of the railing. They fell. The wind whipped past them. One instant—

His body jerked, turning quickly, twisting impossibly in midair.

Then they were on solid ground. On the balcony just below her room. Eve could only shake her head. The man just kept being full of surprises.

“My reflexes aren’t exactly human …”

Nothing about him was … and she loved him for that. Eve didn’t want an average guy. She wanted Cain.

He led the way through the dark to the room’s main door. The door clicked open. Cain and Eve eased into the hallway. Instead of heading for the big elevator on the right, Cain guided her to the staff elevator nestled just a few feet away. He pulled a key card from his pocket and swiped it over the access pad. The door slid open.

“You’re a handy guy,” she told him, impressed. Cain had definitely thought of everything.

He’d make for a fantastic reporter … or a criminal.

One brow rose. “This elevator will take us to the hotel’s back entrance. Staff only. We should be able to leave without anyone seeing us.”

One problem solved. Now, if they could just stop a raging werewolf, well, then they’d be set.

Getting to the club district was easy enough. Finding the cops—yeah, another easy task. They just looked for the flashing blue lights and the crowd of people.

There were no bodies on the ground, but Eve saw two men getting bandaged and loaded into the back of an ambulance. Another ambulance had already left—they’d passed it when they arrived.

There was still blood in the street.

Eve and Cain hung back, blending into the crowd of spectators. She wished she had a shifter’s sense of smell so that she could find Trace but—

Cain inhaled. “That way.”

She had something better. Her own personal phoenix.

They slid back through the crowd, heading for the alley on the left. She felt like dozens of eyes were on her and tensed, glancing back.

But she just saw the crowd. So many faces. They were focused on the blood. The chaos. Not her.

So why was she so sure that she was being watched?

Trace.

Cain’s arm brushed against hers, and Eve almost jumped.

“There.” He pointed into the darkness because, of course, where else would he point? Not like a werewolf would be hiding in the light.

Eve followed him. They headed into the crack between the buildings. Moved away from the crowd. One block. Two. Then …

Eve saw the smashed window on the old building that slumped near the corner. Anyone could have smashed that window, though. A vagrant, someone wanting some shelter from the night.

A werewolf.

“He’s inside.” Cain had tilted his head to the right.

She’d been wondering just how good the guy’s hearing was. Now she knew. They were at least twenty yards away from that building.

“Sounds like he’s tearing the place apart.”

Eve sucked in a breath and they headed for the rundown building. Cain knocked the rest of the window’s glass out of the way and climbed through the opening first. Then he reached for her, holding her carefully to make sure she didn’t get cut.

And he thinks he’s a monster?

She heard the sounds of destruction as soon as her feet touched down inside the building. A crash. The shattering of glass. A wolf’s howl.

She spun around, and through the darkness, she saw his eyes. Far too bright. Trace’s eyes had never been that shade of green. Not while he’d been in human form. But as a wolf, his eyes had always glowed with power.

Part of her—a very big part—expected him to charge through the darkness and attack her. Cain must have expected that, too, because he positioned his body in front of her.

But Trace didn’t attack. Instead, she heard the scrape of claws over metal, and Trace growled out, “Help … me …”

Tears stung her eyes. He’d finally spoken again. The words had been hoarse, rusty, but he’d spoken. Trace was coming back to her. Slowly, but he was fighting. “We’ll help you,” she promised as she stepped around Cain.

He tensed.

Eve made no move to approach Trace. She knew better than to charge at a wounded animal, and that was exactly what Trace was. “Do you know me?”

“Eve …”

Good. “Then you know I’d never hurt you. We’re family.”

Silence. Then more of that horrible scraping. She didn’t flinch, but goose bumps rose on her arms. “Trust me, Trace. Cain and I can help you.” They’d find a way to help him. They wouldn’t give up.

He came from the shadows. Too big. Too strong. Muscled. A man’s body but a beast’s eyes and claws and fangs. His steps were so slow. Tortured. “Help me …” he said again.

“I will, Trace,” Eve promised at once as Cain remained silent. “I will—”

“Kill me,” Trace’s words cut through hers.

She could only shake her head. No, that was the last thing she’d ever do.

“Or I’ll kill … you …” he rasped.

“The hell you will.” Cain was talking. “You better dig fucking deep inside, wolf. Get your control. Because you aren’t hurting her.”

Trace’s shoulders shook as he sucked in heaving gulps of air, but then he tensed. His gaze flew behind them to that broken window. He leaped forward.

Cain was turning then, too. Whirling around to face the threat they both had sensed.

When Eve turned, she saw Detective Roberts coming inside. His gaze found hers, then flew to the werewolf coming at him. He lifted his gun to fire.

“No!” Eve screamed.

He emptied his gun in Trace. Kept firing until Cain grabbed him and yanked the weapon away from the cop.

Trace had fallen to the ground. Eve rushed to his side. His eyes were open and the smell around him—

Silver bullets.

Not just normal silver. Some sort of liquid silver that was leaking out of Trace. Where had the cop gotten bullets like that?

Cain had hurried back to Trace’s side. Jaw locking, he glanced up at Eve. She knew he thought Trace was dead.

Because I think he is, too.

Gut twisting, she whirled back to confront the detective.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, shoulders slumping, “but I didn’t have a choice.”

She didn’t think he was just talking about Trace.

“The bullets won’t kill him. They’ll just keep the werewolf immobile until all the silver drains out of him.” The detective’s hand reached under his coat, and Eve wasn’t surprised to see him produce a second weapon.

Or to find that weapon aimed at her.

“Bad mistake,” Cain told him.

Roberts frowned and shot a glance his way. “Let me guess … Subject Thirteen?”

Cain flashed a vicious smile. “The last man who called me that wound up with a stake in his heart.”

“Yeah, and his old man’s real pissed about that.”

Cain tensed and his gaze flickered to the broken window. Eve frowned. A few moments later, she heard the thud of approaching footsteps.

His old man’s real pissed about that …

Her mouth had gone bone dry. “According to my sources, Jeremiah Wyatt is dead.” She threw the words out deliberately, looking for a reaction. Richard Wyatt had said otherwise, back in that nightmare at Beaumont. He’d told her that his father was alive. So the news stories about his death? Faked. “So it doesn’t really matter how pissed he is in hell.”

“If only.”

That had been the reaction she’d expected. More confirmation—Jeremiah Wyatt was still alive, and the detective knew it.

“There’s a cure, you know”—Roberts straightened his shoulders—“for whatever the hell they did to him.” A jerk of his gun toward Trace’s prone body. “They have some kind of injection that can make him right again.” Softer, “Make her right again.”

“They’re coming for us,” Cain said.

Eve looked at him and saw he’d already begun to stir fire near his palms.

Roberts shook his head. “No, they’re only coming for you, Thirteen. Only for you.”

The doors of the building opened with a long creak. Armed men raced inside.

A trap.

“I knew you’d come for the werewolf,” Roberts said. “Well, actually, he knew.”

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

That wasn’t her heartbeat.

About five men had entered the building. Not cops. Not even guys in military uniforms. Men in battered jeans, thick coats—all holding guns.

Like the guns would do them much good against Cain’s fire.

“You’re making a mistake,” Eve told them. “I’m clear of all charges. The FBI is backing me up. The media is—”

Thud.

Thud.

One of the armed men stepped back. When he moved, Eve saw an older guy with stooped shoulders, gray hair, and—and Wyatt’s green eyes. “The government might have cleared you, Ms. Bradley. I haven’t.”

She was staring at a ghost. “Jeremiah Wyatt. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“So I am.” His lips pursed as he studied her. “But it’s your mother who’s really dead. Your father. I know—I sent the men who killed them both.”

Pain stabbed into her, but before she could speak, Cain attacked.

His fire flashed out. One man down. He ripped the gun from another. Aimed and shot at a third. Before that guy had even fallen, Cain had hit a fourth in the leg with a bullet. The men were falling like flies around Jeremiah Wyatt as he just stood there, smiling, while they screamed.

A big coat covered most of his body. From his neck to his feet. “You and your fire …” Jeremiah whispered. “Richard thought he could control you. Such a foolish mistake.”

The guards were on the ground. Some were crawling away. None were trying to fight.

“That the best you got?” Cain demanded.

Jeremiah shook his head. “No.”

No? Eve rocked back on her heels. Roberts was still there, sweating. When the fire had started flashing, the guy had looked so scared.

But he stepped forward, pale but determined. “I got them here—I did what you wanted—now give me the cure!”

Frowning, Jeremiah turned his focus to the cop. “Ah, yes … your sister, wasn’t it? Richard had thought she’d be such a prime candidate for the program.”

Eve got a crystal-clear picture of just why the cop had sold her out.

Family. She’d been right. It was hard to turn your back on them.

“The cure,” Roberts snapped, his gun aimed at Jeremiah Wyatt.

How is that bastard still alive? He’d reportedly died of a heart attack ten years before. After Richard’s snarled words at Beaumont, she’d dug up pictures of Jeremiah Wyatt on her computer at the hotel. Grainy photos had showed his funeral.

His casket must have been empty.

And the man should be pushing ninety, but … he looked about seventy. Maybe sixty-five.

Experiments.

“You want the cure?” Jeremiah drawled. He didn’t seem concerned that his men had abandoned him. That he was pretty much the sitting duck right then. A phoenix to his left. A gun carrying cop to his right.

And a pissed-off reporter glaring dead center at him.

This was the man who’d ruined her life. Taken away her family. Left her lost and alone.

She’d never known so much hate.

“Kill her,” Jeremiah said, shrugging.

At first, she thought Jeremiah was giving Roberts an order. My execution. Cain must have thought the same thing because he lunged for the cop.

But Roberts wasn’t aiming the gun at Eve. He still had the barrel pointed at Jeremiah. “What?”

“There is no cure. Your sister’s rabid. Just like him.” A wave of Jeremiah’s hand toward Trace’s prone body. But Trace wasn’t exactly prone right then. He was trying to roll over. To crawl toward Wyatt.

“You said—you told me there was a serum! A drug she needed!” Roberts was shaking. The barrel of his gun trembled. “You told me to lure Eve here, to get her inside this warehouse, and you’d give me the cure!” His teeth snapped together. “Give me the damn cure!”

“I did.” Jeremiah’s voice was calm and easy. “Kill her. Cut off her head or burn her. That’s the only way you’ll ever free her. Once the wolves go rabid, they don’t come back.”

“You’re a sick freak,” Cain snapped.

Jeremiah’s gaze turned toward him. That green stare narrowed to slits of ice. “You killed my son. He was such a good experiment, and you killed him.”

“Richard Wyatt wasn’t an experiment!” Eve yelled at him. “He was a person. A twisted psycho of a person, but he wasn’t just an experiment!”

Jeremiah’s lips tightened. “We’re all experiments.”

The guy was deranged. No big shock. Not considering the way Richard had turned out. Like father …

Jeremiah’s lips relaxed. Eased into the twisted semblance of a smile. “I made Richard stronger. I made him better. When I started my work, the boy actually wanted me to stop. Told me I was hurting him.”

Thud.

The cane pounded onto the floor.

“There is no growth without pain. No life without suffering.” That faint smile was still on his lips when he pointed his finger at Cain. “You’re about to suffer.”

“Old man, I’m not scared of you.” Cain turned away from him. He reached for Eve, but she pulled back.

“Get Trace.” They’d take him to a hospital. He’d get help. Did Jeremiah really think he was the only one who worked in the field of shifter genetics? There were other experts out there. Others who didn’t torture and kill.

Maybe there wasn’t a cure yet. But there damn well could be one.

Cain hefted Trace over his shoulder.

Roberts hadn’t moved. “You son of a bitch,” he said to Jeremiah. “I risked my badge for you … I want my sister back!”

“That bitch is as good as dead.” The words were snarled, and before Eve could even blink, Jeremiah had lunged across the room. He opened his mouth—

And sank his teeth into the cop’s throat.

Vampire.

No wonder the man didn’t look ninety. He’d stopped aging. Maybe that had been him pictured in that coffin after all. Still and pale … a newly transformed vampire.

Eve grabbed Jeremiah’s arms and yanked him away from Roberts—even as Roberts fired his gun.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Two bullets blasted into Jeremiah’s chest.

One went right through his body and hit Eve.

A roar filled the building as Eve staggered back. She lifted her hand to her chest, and blood soaked her fingers.

Roberts stared at her with wide, shocked eyes. “I didn’t mean—”

She tried to nod. Managed to stagger back. Cain grabbed her. Wait. Where was Trace? Where—“Trace.”

“Screw Trace. I’m getting you out of here.” Cain’s gaze was burning, flickering with flames. He pulled her into his arms. “It’s all right, you’re going to be all right …”

“No, she’s not.” Jeremiah’s cold voice. He was still standing? “Because she’s not getting out of here alive.” He laughed, even as he swiped away the dripping blood on his chin. “I thought I’d slowly drain Ms. Bradley and kill her, make her suffer for what she did to my boy, but she’s already dead …”

No, she wasn’t. Eve wanted to scream at him, but she couldn’t talk.

“Only a few moments left, then that heart of hers will stop. That bullet—it killed her.”

“I’m so sorry …” The detective’s voice. Eve couldn’t see him.

Cain was running toward the door with her in his arms, but then he staggered to a stop.

“You aren’t leaving,” Jeremiah snarled. “Not yet.”

Eve forced her eyelids to stay open. Jeremiah had dropped his act. Ditched his cane, and moved with that super vampire speed. And … as she watched, he reached into his big overcoat and pulled out a small, black box.

Her breath choked out. She’d seen a box like that before. On another story that she’d worked on. A box like that had been found in the aftermath …

“I taught my son so much,” Jeremiah said as he lifted the box in his bloodstained hands. “About genetics. About life. About the possibilities before us …”

In the aftermath of an explosion that had wiped out a home. A family.

“I also taught him about destruction. About how easy it can be to kill.” His fingers hovered over the small switch on the side of the box. “With just one … touch … of a finger …”

He’d wired the building. Eve could only shake her head. He’d wired this place, the same way that his son had wired the chocolate shop.

No wonder Jeremiah had wanted Roberts to lure them to this warehouse. Get them in …

Then watch us explode.

“Bombs are all around us,” Jeremiah said. “This is the end.”

“Get the fuck out of the way!” Cain snarled, but he wasn’t sending out his fire to blast Jeremiah. If he did, Jeremiah might hit that switch.

The whole building could explode then. Would explode, because she didn’t think the guy was bluffing. Eve didn’t even know how powerful the explosion could be. There were humans close by. How many would be hurt?

The pain in her chest was easing. Numbing. She could barely feel anything. Even her fingertips.

Her hands slumped down, dangling uselessly, but she made her eyes stay open. Open.

“They’ll think your fire destroyed this place,” Jeremiah said as his fingertips caressed the small, black case. “Subject Thirteen strikes again. He just couldn’t let the woman he loved go—obsession drove him.” His hand lifted, his fingers curling around the detonator. “And he killed …”

“You’ll kill yourself!” Cain yelled at him. “The fire won’t kill me. It won’t kill her! Just you, bastard!”

“I’m ready to die.” But he wasn’t pushing the detonator.

Eve tried to pull in a deep breath. Couldn’t.

“The vampire blood should have made me younger, given the years back to me.” Jeremiah shook his head. “Not trapped me like this! And now that you’ve taken Richard …”

Thud. Thud.

It sounded like the old man’s cane. But he wasn’t using it. That too-slow thud was Eve’s heartbeat. “Cain …”

He spun away from Jeremiah and raced for the other side of the building.

“Now I’m ready for death.” Jeremiah’s voice followed them.

So did the explosion. A fast, driving blast that lifted Cain and Eve into the air even as a furnace of heat swept over them.

The walls and the roof shattered. Debris rained down on them. The hungry flames consumed everything in sight.